A study of Fear
by Shadow M Rose
Summary: This is part of a challenge I am doing, where I shall write the fiction equivalent of a Sherlock episode, complete with humor, action, and feels. I am trying to write in a way that makes it actually seem like a real episode one would find in the series. In this episode, John and Sherlock learn about Cause and effect. Meanwhile, a very strange murderer is on the loose!
1. Gunshots in the Night

Gunshots and the sound of distant explosions rang out, there was chaos everywhere. And in the middle of that chaos, was none other than John Watson. He was back on the battlefield, but this time, he was alone in his plight. Everyone around him was dead, and although he had a gun, he was out of ammunition. 'this is the end...' He thought bitterly, before making his decision. He stood up and ran, ran like his life depended on it. He could hear the distinct whistle of an incoming bomb, and looked up. He had been right. This was the end. He braced himself for the worst, waiting for the bomb to hit...  
John gasped, his eyes were wide open now, and he was sitting in an upright position, clutching his sheets. He could feel his heart beating rapidly, and his breathing was shallow. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he was still in a state of panic. Nearly a millisecond later, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a figure, looming over his bed. Panicked, he reached down to the side of the bed, grabbed the pistol he had hidden for safekeeping, and fired two shots at the intruder. The first shot knocked the figure over, and the second one embedded itself in the wall behind said figure.  
It all happened, from waking to the shooting, in a few seconds, and only after he heard a soft wheeze and a groan, did he think to flip the light on.  
His roommate was strewn over an overturned chair, clutching at his chest. John felt another surge of panic. "Oh my god! What were you doing there!? I've just shot Sherlock Holmes!" He exclaimed, springing out of bed, not caring that he was clad only in a pair of boxers. He knelt beside the detective, trying to assess the situation.  
Sherlock was gasping for breath, but soon enough, he was able to suck in a deep breath, which caused a fit of coughing. As he was coughing, though, he gingerly started to sit up.  
"No, Lie down!" John insisted, starting to remove Sherlock's coat so he could get better access to the wound. "Where were you hit?"  
Sherlock just scowled and pushed John's hands away as they worked their way down the buttons on his shirt. "Goodness, John. I've just had the wind knocked out of me. I'm not dying" He pointed out, sitting up. He groaned and used one hand to lean against the wall, and the other to clutch at his pounding head.  
John was confused, to say the least. "But I shot you!" He pointed out as he stood up. He peered closer at his roommate, who was still in the same position.  
"Bullet-Proof Vest" Sherlock pointed out, before sucking in a deep breath. He pulled aside his shirt to reveal said vest.

John just stared blankly at his flat-mate, who was now walking briskly out of the room, as if nothing had happened.


	2. A puzzling Breakfast

That morning, there was another surprise for John. Sherlock, fully dressed, sipping a warm cup of tea, and enough breakfast for the both of them!  
"Oh, has Mrs. Hudson been around? I thought she wasn't our housekeeper" John remarked, taking a seat at the table. It was a lovely dish of eggs, toast, fresh tea, and a bit of ham. Several jars of condiments for said toast lay scattered around the table, all opened.  
"Oh. No. I made this" Sherlock said, offering John a smile, before returning his lips to the rim of his cup.  
That just set off some red flags in John's head. He looked down at the food, then back at Sherlock, then at the food, and finally at Sherlock. "What'd you do to it?" He finally asked, poking the ham with his fork.  
Sherlock put on his best offended face. "Nonsense. I was bored last night and I had access to a full fridge and a gas stove. We need to go grocery shopping, by the way" He said, and once again, he was sipping his tea. Now he even had the paper out, and he was scanning the print.

John sighed and made a mental note to check the trash. He had a feeling that Sherlock had wasted all of their food. He plucked up his courage, and started to eat the food. Surprisingly, it wasn't that bad. Neither was the tea! When he was finished, he politely stood up, grabbing his dishes and headed towards the sink.  
"How was it?" Sherlock's voice floated over the paper in his hands. John paused.  
"It was... Surprisingly good. Thank you" He said, scraping the remaining bread crust and bit of egg into the wastebin, which was quite obviously full of food ranging from barely cooked to badly burnt.  
John was too busy looking at the full trash can to notice the quick roll of Sherlock's eyes.  
"Ah... Um... Why were you cooking, anyways? That's not really like you." John pointed out, turning back to Sherlock. He took a seat back at the table, and waited for an explination.  
Sherlock paused, not speaking. When John continued to stare at him, though, Sherlock set the paper down and sighed. "I was bored. I had just been shot, and I had adrenaline pumping through my veins. What was I to do?"  
John thought about that for a second. He shrugged. "I suppose, but that still doesn't seem like you to make breakfast"  
Sherlock leaned forward, the look on his face was questioning. Why didn't John know this?  
"There's not much to do at Two in the morning, John. "  
John still wasn't following. He just gave Sherlock a 'go on' look. Sherlock continued with a sigh.  
"I was bored and I was hungry. Nobody was awake, so I figured I should make something. It's not like I wanted to do anything special. I simply wished to alleviate my boredom while also quelling my hunger. That's all there is to it" Sherlock said, speaking louder. It wasn't exactly a yell, but it was clear to John that Sherlock didn't want to talk anymore.

"Ah. All right then. I'll be off shopping..." John said, feeling uncomfortable now that Sherlock was just staring at him, waiting, almost daring him, to respond. He headed back to his room and grabbed his wallet, before heading out to the store.  
Today had already started out so strangely, John wouldn't be surprised if Mycroft showed up wanting to play ball with his little brother or something...


	3. Grocers Store

Just the thought of such a strange thing happening got John chuckling. He slipped into the grocery store, head ducked, trying to contain his laughter. He then proceeded to grab a shopping cart and head down each aisle in turn, grabbing what was needed to replace all the wasted food. He would chuckle every so often, the thought still fresh in his mind, until he turned down the frozen food section, and heard a familiar voice.  
"What's so funny?"  
John turned around to see Molly, hands on her shopping cart, and dressed in casual wear. It was almost strange to see her in jeans and a t-shirt, since John was so used to her in her lab coat, in the morgue.  
"Oh, ah, hello, Molly! Didn't see you there! I was just thinking of something funny... Ah...Mycroft wasn't at the party... I was just thinking about Sherlock's brother" John tried to explain. He offered a smile, then tried to change the subject. "So, uh, how have you been? Haven't seen you in a while"  
Molly smiled and answered. "I've been good. I've been working a lot lately. Um... Speaking of Sherlock though... How is he?"  
John knew of Molly's crush on Sherlock, but at the same time, he didn't know what to say about Sherlock. The fact that he was here because Sherlock ruined all their food? Or the cases? So he just went with the first thing that came to mind.  
"I ah...Shot him this morning? Ooh, wait no! That sounded horrible. Bad way of saying that. He was wearing a bullet-proof vest!" He said, trying to fix the mistake he had just made. He hoped nobody had overheard their conversation. That would be awkward, trying to explain that...  
He knew Molly, and Molly knew about Sherlock's odd behavior, and yet it was still awkward, trying to explain this.  
"Oh, is he all right?" Molly asked, her eyes giving away her concern.  
"Yeah. Yeah... He's all right. It's his own bloody fault for startling me though. You don't sneak up on a man who's ben in a war! I'm trained to kill!" He said, feeling that all too familiar rush of anger and adrenaline. His cheeks flushed and he looked down.  
"Oh, goodness. Sorry about that Molly. PTSD and all...I should go now. It was lovely seeing you" He said, turning his head to look at her, and offer an awkward, embarrassed smile, before heading down the frozen food section in a hurry. He finished his shopping as quickly as possible, and avoided eye contact with the cashier. He had been loud, and he was sure someone had heard him. He was out of that store in record time, mentally kicking himself for doing such a thing.  
When he got home, Mrs. hudson was in the hall.  
"Oh, John! There you are! I think something's wrong with Sherlock! He's playing the violin, but he's making such a racket! It's like he forgot how to play or something!" She exclaimed, following him to the flat. "I didn't want to go in, but since you're here, could you see if he's all right?"  
John nodded and unlocked the door to the flat, preparing himself for the worst. This really did seem like a topsy-turvy day!


	4. Concussed

The first thing he heard as he entered the flat was a drawn-out groan, followed by the words "John... My head." coming from the sofa. He quickly placed the groceries in the kitchen, then rushed over to Sherlock's side.  
"What happened?" He asked, glancing at the worlds only consulting detective, who was now strewn across the sofa, one hand clutching his head, the other hanging limply off the side.  
"I don't know... It just suddenly started hurting. I can't think at all. Is this what's it's like inside your head? Can't string a coheren't thought process together without pain?"  
John ignored the insult and immideately went into doctor mode. "Sherlock, can you sit up for me? I'll be right back." He said softly, before going off to the kitchen. He pulled a flashlight out of the junk drawer, and returned. Sherlock was groggily sitting up, a dazed expression on his clicked on the light and shone it into Sherlock's eyes. The pupils reacted, but slowly.  
Next, he gingerly checked the back of Sherlock's head, running his hand between the curly locks and gently prodding the area there.  
Sherlock let out a hiss of pain, but otherwise, stood still.  
John did a few other tests, then got up. "I think it might be a concussion" He concluded. You're going to need to take it easy for a few days. I should have checked for concussion sooner... But the good news is, it's minor. And it should subside within a day or two with proper care. I'll go get you some paracetamol, you lie down, but don't fall asleep." He instructed, before heading to the bathroom to get some medicine from the medicine cabinet. Then he went to Sherlock's room to grab him a blanket and a pillow, and finally to the kitchen for a glass of water.  
"Lift your head up a bit" He told Sherlock as he brought the things over. Sherlock, for once, did as he was told, and lifted his head up. He reached out a hand to take the pill, but it slipped out of his fingers, and he just stared blankly as it rolled under the sofa.  
John sighed and took another pill out of the bottle. "Open your mouth" He instructed, holding out the pill. "It's common for concussion patients to experience a lack of hand-eye co-ordination" He explained, placing the pill in Sherlock's waiting mouth. He was careful not to touch Sherlock's lips as he withdrew his hands, and quickly pressed the cup of water to Sherlock's lips, pouring a bit of water into his flatmate's mouth, not wanting Sherlock to drop the cup too.  
"Just stay there a while. The swelling will go down if you just rest and stay hydrated" He said, placing the blanket atop his flatmate's body, and sitting down in his own chair. "Let's watch some telly. I'll see what's on"


	5. Crap Telly

The pair watched quite a few shows, ranging from documentaries, which sherlock had persuaded John to watch with him by repeating the words "Go back to the documentary" after John had flipped past it, until John went back to it, and then to crap telly, infomercials for a short period of time, and some foreign film that neither of them particularly enjoyed.  
It was getting late when John first noted some improvement in Sherlock's condition.  
"Those translations are wrong. He just said 'My love for you knows no match, for it is as infinite as the sea'. Not 'I love you the most, my heart is as big as the sea'. What idiot did they put in charge of this?" Sherlock deadpanned, not moving from his position on the couch.  
John sighed, but he couldn't help the trace of a smile that graced his lips. "Ah. Are you feeling better? How's your head?" He asked, not taking his eyes from the television.  
It was a sort of familiarity the two had with each other, in that they didn't have to turn to look at the other. They just knew the other well enough to only need the sound of their voice in a conversation. Sherlock new John was sitting upright in his place on the chair, either holding a cup of tea between his hands, or his hands were on the arms of the chair, stiff. All angles and rigidity. And of course, John knew that Sherlock was lazily sprawled across the couch, staying in the position of rest, even though he seemed to be making a recovery.  
In response to John's question, Sherlock just grunted slightly as he sat up. "Hmm... Actually, I'm starting to feel a lot better. Turn off the television. I want to go to my mind palace"  
John rolled his eyes and muted the television, putting it to closed caption so he could still watch it.  
"I can still see the light flickering" Sherlock mumbled bluntly, eyes now closed.  
John stopped himself from making a snarky remark and simply turned off the television. He went to the kitchen to get himself something to snack on while Sherlock did his thing.  
Meanwhile, Sherlock was now wandering his mind palace, checking each room in turn to make sure everything was all right. The rooms all seemed fine, until he turned a sharp corner and found a large section of the wall missing. He let out a sigh and set about to rebuilding the wall. It didn't take too long, although it was still a boring task for him, but he felt a lot better after doing so. He checked the rest of the palace to make sure nothing else was damaged, and slowly returned to reality.  
The first thing he noticed was the clink of a teacup , and then as he looked down, he saw a cup had been laid out for him. The tea inside was a dark amber color, with a faint trail of steam emerging, wafting into the air and then dissipating. He picked it up gingerly, not sure if he wanted to drink it, and noticed that John was staring at him.  
"Are you hungry?"  
Sherlock furrowed his brow, then took a sip of his tea. "No. Not really."  
"Well I am, but I'm bloody tired and I don't feel like cooking."  
"And?"  
"I think a bit of fresh air will do you good. So you're coming with me."  
Sherlock was a bit surprised that John hadn't left any room for Sherlock to get out of it easily. He couldn't suppress the small smile as he sipped his tea.  
"Fine. But I'm not going to any sort of greasy spoon, or anything with takeaway"  
Sherlock had said that to be partially obnoxious, and partially because he couldn't stand the noise that was usually found in places like those right now.  
John finished his tea, glad that Sherlock hadn't put up much of his fight, and put the cup into the sink, so he could clean it later.  
"I'm going to get changed. We'll go after that, so if you want to change your clothes, do it now" John said, before heading to his own room to change.  
Sherlock, of course, waited until he could hear John's footsteps approaching before darting off into his own room to grab his coat and a scarf, as well as a pair of gloves. He quickly pulled the coat on, and shoved the gloves onto his hands, and walked out to meet John as he was pulling the scarf around his neck.  
"Is that all you own? I don't think I've ever seen you in anything other than one of those ridiculous sweaters"  
"Shut up, Sherlock"


	6. Dinner for Two

The pair arrived at a small sit-down restaurant and were seated immediately, as there were only two or three other diners there, at the time. The waitress smiled politely at them and handed them menus, explaining the current deal they had going, and offering her name, as well. Angela.  
As Angela walked away from the table, John could notice that Sherlock was doing that thing again. His eyes were rapidly scanning the waitress's frame, his mind was obviously working quickly.  
"Sherlock. Sherlock" John said, snapping his fingers to get his flatmate's attention. When Sherlock looked over, obviously annoyed, he continued. "No. Deductions. This isn't a case, and for once, I'd like a nice evening without that sort of thing. Please?"  
The please was obviously thrown in as an afterthought, but Sherlock accepted it with a sigh, slumping in his chair. Now that his head was feeling better, he wanted to USE it. But John wouldn't let him. It was clear to Sherlock that John was serious. His tone was stern, almost like...Almost like he was speaking to a child!  
Sherlock straightened up and fixed his gaze on John, who was looking at his menu, and couldn't tell that Sherlock was scheming something.  
Eventually the waitress came back to take their orders. "Are you two ready to take your orders?" She asked, offering a smile. She then noticed that the candle, set on all the tables, was out, and after hearing the conversation the pair had just had, she assumed they were a couple, and lit it. "Ah, there you go! To give you boys a little bit of lighting" She said, giggling slightly.  
John immediately flushed. "W-we're not a couple." He pointed out, knowing all too well, the signs of someone who thought they were together.  
And that's when Sherlock decided his revenge. John had embarrassed him, and took away his fun, so now it was his turn.  
"Now, don't be so shy. It's perfectly acceptable in this day and age for two men to go out for dinner." He said, not bothering to hide that cocky, obnoxious grin of his. "We're not going to get harassed, if that's what you're worried about."  
And as a finishing touch, he reached across the table and gave John's hand a squeeze.  
"I'll have the chicken Alfredo please"  
John just sat there, mortified, as Sherlock Holmes made it obvious to the waitress that they were a couple. Even though they really weren't.  
"I-I'll have... The portebello steak. Rare please."  
"Oh, and can we get a bottle of wine, as well. Red please. Whatever brand you'd reccomend" Sherlock added, his smile still prominent. And it didn't leave, even after the waitress had.

"Sherlock!" John whispered, quite rightly angry. "What in the bloody hell were you thinking?"  
"Oh. That? I was bored" Sherlock responded, finally giving up that devilish grin for a look of refined boredom, as if he hadn't done anything except the act of being bored.  
John made a move to get up, but Sherlock just waved his hand to dismiss the notion of leaving. "There's no use leaving now. We've already ordered. Just sit down and wait for your food" He pointed out, before unraveling the cloth napkin which held his fork and knife. He set the napkin neatly on his lap and placed the fork and knife to the side, perfectly straight, and in the right order.  
John sighed and sat down, his face clearly stating 'I am not amused'. It was the same face he always made when Sherlock did something like that...  
"You're welcome for taking care of you while you were concussed" John mumbled.


End file.
